Ashes to Ashes
by Lirillith
Summary: Spoilers. Another ep. 23 fic, this time from Meryl's point of view.


Author's note: Usual copyright disclaimers. I own nothing. This is my first Trigun fic, so bear with me... Also, be warned of huge, atomic spoilers. If you haven't seen through episode 23, you might not want to read this. 

Ashes to Ashes

  


"Hey." Just that, spoken around the cigarette. I looked at him. I don't know what expression was on my face, if any. "What was the kid's last name?" 

"What? Why?" 

"Grave marker. Ask one of 'em, would ya?" 

I couldn't say anything to him, couldn't spit at him or burst into tears or anything else, but I didn't want him to see me running errands for him right then. I swallowed. My mouth tasted like ashes. "Why don't you?" 

He took a long drag on the cigarette. I turned away from him, coughing pointedly, and noticed a boy of about eight heading towards us. "His last name was Clayburn. I guess just spelled like it sounds. There was a silent E at the end of his name." He was looking at my shoes as he said it. 

"Appreciate it." From the sound of it, he still had the cigarette clenched in his teeth. He walked off. I tried to smile at the boy, and he reached up to take my hand. We stood that way until the acting sheriff came back, told us the kids could stay for now. I squeezed the boy's hand, took him back to the others to let them know. Millie smiled wanly, and I realized she'd sent the boy over to speak to us. I tried to smile back at her. We took some statements, enough for the report, and trudged back to the car. 

I don't know how Vash had managed to find it – he hadn't been with us when we drove to town. But he was there, sitting slumped on the back bumper of the car. His gun was concealed in his arm again, the other holstered. He was wearing those glasses he always wears. If you didn't know him, you couldn't tell by looking that anything was wrong. 

"Vash?" I asked, and was grateful not to hear a quaver in my voice. 

"It's about time to go." 

"Yeah, it is," I replied, hoping he just meant leaving the town, as a group, and nothing more. 

"You have the keys, right?" 

"Yeah." I fished in my pocket for them. "Do you want to drive?" 

"No." He straightened, walked around the car to get into the backseat. Millie and I both took the front seats; I felt guilty, leaving Vash alone in the back, but he seemed to want that. We had to go back to the children's house to get our luggage. He wasn't actually there, but there were cigarette butts, motorcycle tracks and footprints. He was, I realized later, leaving us a trail. His bag wasn't with the others. None of us said anything about that, and no one told me to start following the motorcycle tracks when we pulled away from the house, but I did. 

* * *

I didn't see the motorcycle when we got to the town. Or anything else. It was empty. Laundry hung patchily on lines, some pieces obviously having blown away. The doors of several buildings swung loosely open. And the big town-charter stone in the middle of the square had "Knives" scrawled on it. "Let's keep going," Vash said. 

"What?" 

"There's another town about an hours' drive north of here," Millie volunteered. "And others out to the east, but they're further away." I looked at her blankly. "I looked at a map before we left," she explained. 

She'd also spoken to him, I thought, but I didn't say anything. He had only meant to save us. Save Vash. Just because he'd shot a child, didn't mean he was a bad person. It only meant I had a hard time looking at him. I didn't know why we were following him, or why that child had called himself a "Gung-ho Gun" as if we should know what the phrase meant. I didn't know what that had to do with Vash, or why he'd gasped when the boy said that, and I didn't know how someone who had always seemed to love children could shoot one. I didn't know anything. But there were tire tracks to follow. So I drove out of the town and turned north. 

The sun was going down by the time we reached it. This town was clearly empty too, but Vash got out of the car when we stopped and waited at the back until I popped the trunk open. He pulled out his luggage, and Millie and I bailed out to do the same. I had to almost run to keep up with them. I hate being short. He didn't pause when he passed the motorcycle by the porch of the inn, but Millie did. I caught up with her, and we walked in together. 

The downside to luggage on wheels is that you still have to carry it on the stairs. Or wrestle with it, while your two companions march up at the usual pace. My head got above the level of the second floor just in time to see Vash walk into one of the rooms. Millie was standing in the corridor, facing him. He still had his cross slung over one shoulder, and I wondered why - was he planning to fight Vash, or had he just arrived himself? 

Millie held her suitcase in front of her with both hands like an old-fashioned bookbag. She plays the child so much; not a deliberate deception, just a role that she falls into when she knows someone else will take care of things. I hadn't thought she acted that way with him, but she looked for all the world like a little girl on her way to school. Then she kissed him, quickly, and turned to walk into a room of her own. It looked to me like the way you kiss someone you're accustomed to, but what do I know? Mr. Wolfwood went to one on the other side of the corridor. I don't think he saw me. I hauled my bag up the last few steps and chose the last of the three rooms on the side Vash had chosen. Cheap symbolism. 

* * *

The next morning, we turned toward another town. This time, we could see the dust the motorcycle kicked up as we drove. Again, the town was empty when we got there. I didn't understand, but I caught a glimpse of Vash's profile, and behind the glasses, he looked furious. Nothing was different about his walk or the way he carried himself, though, and he carried his luggage into an empty inn just as he had before. Mr. Wolfwood, I guess, was in his room already. We all got settled in, I guess, but when I looked out my window I saw that Vash was standing in the square. I went downstairs to talk to him, to ask him what was going on, but on my way down I lost my nerve. I just stood on the porch, watching him, helpless. I jumped when he shot the stone, but I didn't leave until I heard Millie calling me to cook dinner. 

After the meal, he went back out to the square. 

* * *

That night, Millie didn't come back to her room before I went to bed. The next morning, while I was fixing breakfast, I heard gunfire. Reflex and habit took over from the awkwardness of the last few days, and I ran into Mr. Wolfwood's room. Where I found Millie, huddled on his bed. He'd made her promise to stay, while he left. I stayed with her, trying to ignore the sounds. Trying not to worry or ask her questions. Her face was streaked with tears, and I could see that she was anticipating a hurt that hadn't come yet. I brought her luggage over, coaxed her into dressing, but I couldn't make her eat. Especially not once Vash walked into the room with the cross, carefully re-wrapped, and put it in the corner. He was covered in dust, and I looked at him questioningly, dreading the answer. 

"I dug the grave," he said, his voice quiet and hoarse. "I guess you should both come with me." She fell to her knees on the floor, shaking, but she didn't cry or do anything, and once I got her to her feet she was able to walk without help. We went to the graveyard. He'd already selected a casket. "You can choose a different one if you want," he told her, but she shook her head no. She still didn't say anything, although she started crying silently when she saw his face. He looked peaceful, even smiling slightly. That was a relief, at least. 

We closed the casket, and the three of us, working together, were able to lower it into the grave. "Don't you throw the earth on the coffin? Or is that just a local custom?" Vash asked, and Millie took a handful of the dust, then let it slip through her fingers and drop on the ground. 

"I can't," she whispered. He nodded, tried to smile at her, and reached for the shovel, then stopped himself. "Excuse me," she mumbled, and began walking very fast back toward the inn. I called after her, but she didn't even pause, and once she was out of the graveyard she broke into a run. I took a few steps after her, stopped. He'd need help with the burial. 

"I already buried one man on my own today," he said quietly. "I can manage a second." 

"What?" I asked, barely even audible. 

"An enemy. I wasn't able to save him." 

"Vash..." I whispered. 

"She needs you." 

"Are you sure...?" 

"It's fine. Go." 

I found her in the same room she'd been in that morning. His room. She was kneeling by the bed with her head and arms on the mattress, sobbing helplessly. I tried to touch her shoulder, but she didn't even seem to notice I was there. I retreated to the middle of the room, standing almost at attention, covering my eyes, but none of it was enough to stop the tears from coming. 


End file.
